


Firsts

by Jove_Belle



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Person of Interest (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:47:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jove_Belle/pseuds/Jove_Belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a first time for everything. </p><p>A series of firsts with characters from different fandoms.</p><p>Chapter 1 - Root/Shaw (Person of Interest)<br/>Chapter 2 - Clarke/Raven (The 100)<br/>Chapter 3 - Buffy/Faith (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shaw doesn't like people. But if she did, she might like Root. But only a little

It wasn't that she felt nothing, despite the diagnosis she had on file in too many facilities to count. She felt lots of things. Like hungry. She could totally go for a Laurabar right about now. Or fries. Fries were always good

And boredom. That was tricky, because letting herself be bored meant her focus was likely to drift. Trained assassins with drifting focus ended up as dead assassins, and Shaw had no interest in finding out what that felt like.

Anger. That was an emotion she could get behind. She fucking kicked anger's ass. And she kicked her shrink's ass when she told her that anger isn't a true emotion. It's a mask for something else. Shaw understood that. When forced to choose between bored or angry, she picked angry. And being hungry made her angry, too. Food was good. No food was bad. Thus, anger. Simple.

What she sucked at, though, was empathy. It wasn't that she couldn't appreciate what another person might be feeling. She could, at least academically. It was just that she didn't care. She had her own shit to deal with. Like getting shot, something that had happened with alarming frequency over the past year or so. It was annoying and inconvenient. And it made her angry.

Root, though, was different. Everything about Root pissed her off and turned her on at the same time. She pushed when she should back off, was annoyingly chirpy about every damn thing, and actively communicated with her own personal goddess. Seriously, the chick was nuts. Hot as fuck. And nuts.

She was also the only person who really, truly saw Shaw. She didn't get distracted by the grunting and swearing and eye rolling. With a cheeky grin and a deceptively innocent tone, she zeroed in on who Shaw was at the core. Root drilled down, stripping away layer after layer until the root of Shaw was exposed and throbbing like an exposed nerve. And it didn't freak her out.

Root knew how many people Shaw had maimed, broken, and killed, and she knew that Shaw didn't really care. Sure, it was messy to clean up the mess. Blood was a bitch to get out, so she didn't like that part of killing. But ninety-nine times out of a hundred, she didn't care either way if the other person lived or died. And, if faced with the choice between her continued breathing or someone else's, she always picked herself. Always.

Until Root.

Root also knew how much Shaw liked pain, how she embraced it. She knew how the signal from her nerve endings curled and twisted its way to her brain, and by the time it got there, her body registered it as arousal instead of a threat. Instead of scaring Root, instead of chasing her off, Root embraced Shaw's love of pain as openly as Shaw herself. She helped re-define the boundaries between too little and too much, helped Shaw to find her hard lines, the places she absolutely couldn't go.

She wasn't sure who it surprised more, her or Root, when she kissed her hard and fast on that elevator. It was backward and out of character. Shaw did a lot of things, but she didn't kiss. Except for Root.

Every rule she thought she had for herself held true. Except for Root.


	2. Pick Me First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven was always picked first.
> 
> (This takes place post season 1, but before season 2. I have no idea if Raven actually walks again. But if it were my show, she'd walk and talk and do all sorts of other sexy things.)

"Hey, Raven." Clarke stared at the wires, trying like hell to make it make sense and wishing it didn't need to. She'd rather be on the main level with Raven, holding her hand. Or, better yet, she'd rather be with Raven, thirty minutes in the past, before Murphy shot her and before she tried to prove how tough she was by walking with the bullet still inside her like a time bomb.

"What?" Raven sounded too far away, farther than the few feet that separated them and farther than could be bridge by a few words.

"I'd pick you first." Clarke closed her eyes and waited for Raven to respond. Would she even understood everything Clarke meant, that she was talking about so much more than a school project or a pickup game.

Raven snorted. "Of course you would. I'm awesome."

They hadn't had a moment alone since then. They'd called Jasper back to fix the wires, then the army stopped testing and started attacking and the rest of their people had flooded into the pod. Then she'd been hauled off to Mt Weather and she assumed Raven was dead. Except she wasn't. She was very much alive and standing in front of her.

"Hey, Clarke." Raven smiled, her lips curled up on one side like a rogue.

Clarke didn't stop to think. She ran to Raven and crashed into her, knocking her off balance. She fell to the ground, and Clarke landed on her with an oomph.

Raven laughed. "You really know how to knock a girl off her feet."

When Clarke tried to stand, embarrassed but unable to regret her enthusiasm, Raven wrapped her arms around her and held her close. It'd been too long since she'd seen Raven, and even longer since she felt the warmth of another body beneath hers. If only there weren't so many other people around. And if they were naked. Yeah, that would make it better.

"I thought you were dead," Clarke said, her face buried in Raven's neck.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm okay, Clarke."

Clarke pulled back far enough to look into Raven's eyes, just to prove that Raven was real, that this wasn't a dream.

Raven ran her hands through Clarke's hair, and then brushed her thumb over Clarke's cheek. "Don't cry," she said softly. "I'm okay."

Clarke hadn't realized she was crying until Raven wiped away the tears. She snuffled. "I thought you were dead," she said, still unable to believe that Raven was here, alive, and smiling up at her.

"Yeah, you already said that part." Raven continued to move her hands rhythmically, alternating between combing her fingers through Clarke's hair and touching her face. "I missed you." She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, biting it for a moment then letting it slip free.

Clarke stared at her lips and subconsciously licked her own. She'd waited too long to do this before, opting to play it safe, to not risk their friendship on something that she was afraid was only in her head. But the way Raven was looking at her, her gaze darting between Clarke's eyes and her mouth... She definitely wasn't imagining that.

"I hope this is okay." Clarke moved in slowly, giving Raven time to tell her no and praying she wouldn't.

"Yeah." Raven nodded, her movement stilted as she continued to stare at Clarke's lips. "Definitely okay."

And then, Clarke brushed her lips against Raven's. They were perfect and soft and set Clarke on fire in a way she hadn't experienced in far too long. She tangled her fingers into Raven's hair and licked along Raven's bottom lip until she opened her mouth, allowing Clarke to deepen the kiss. She could get lost in a kiss like this, forget herself and everything around them. Raven moaned into her mouth and a ball of heat blossomed low in Clarke's belly.

"Alright you two, break it up," A voice Clarke didn't recognize broke through the fog in her mind.

She pulled back only to have Raven pull her back in for another, deeper kiss. She didn't know who the man who spoke was, and if Raven didn't care, neither did Clarke.

"Seriously, Clarke, everybody is staring." That voice belonged to her mother.

This time, when she broke the kiss, Raven let her.

"Sorry, Mom. Just making sure that Raven understands that I meant it when I said I'd pick her first."


	3. Not with a bang, but a whimper.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buffy and Faith and their first kiss.

She expected their first time to be hard and angry, with bites and scratches acting as kisses and caresses. She expected Faith to push into her space, punching and yelling and all sexy bravado, until one of them snapped. She expected a crypt wall digging into her back and Faith's teeth digging in anywhere she could reach.

She didn't expect a pleading glance, a whisper, and a ghost of a touch across her cheek. She didn't expect Faith to melt into her, her body supple and conforming in an extended moment of holding back a flood of want and need. She didn't expect a bed, soft and inviting, sinking beneath them as they fell onto it together.

And when Faith finally kissed her, she moved slow and held Buffy's gaze, affording her more than enough time to back away, to change her mind. She licked her lips, a quick, furtive flick of her tongue that made Buffy whimper, transfixed by the motion. In the moment before Faith's lips finally touched hers, Faith sighed gently and closed her eyes. That one short exhale said so much more than any words she might have tried. It said "finally" and "please" and "perfection" and all sorts of other sweet nothings that Faith would normally deny, but in that moment, Buffy felt the deluge of Faith's emotions. And she tried, with the curve of her lips, the way her mouth fell open, in the way she sank her fingers into the fine hair at the base of Faith's neck, to show her the same tenderness. 

Everything in their past had built to this moment. They were magnetic, destined to repel or cling to each other, depending upon how they lined up the firestorm of slayer energy. They spent so much time, too much time, pushing against each other, sensing each other, feeling the pull at the outside edges of static pulse that kept them apart. All it took was a slight shift, a subtle realignment, and suddenly the need to touch, the explore, to _give_ became impossible to ignore. 

The moment their lips touched, Buffy forgot all the compelling reasons she'd resisted this inevitable moment. This, this perfect connection of lips and fingers and bodies and _everything_ , this was worth living and dying for. It was a reason to save the world and keep saving it.

A lot.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Person of Interest. If I did, Root and Shaw would spend more time naked and sweaty.  
> I do not own The 100. I also don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but wouldn't it be cool if I did?
> 
> I do own my computer. And I own my brain, broken as it is.
> 
> No money was made or characters harmed in the writing of this fanfic.
> 
> Oh, and reviews are love.


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